双语童话阅读《老路灯》
《老路灯》这个故事讲的是一个路灯的一生。是闻名世界的丹麦童话大师安徒生作品。以下是应届毕业生网小编为大家推荐的双语童话阅读《老路灯》，希望大家喜欢。
the Old Street Lamp老路灯
DID you ever hear the story of the old streetlamp? It is not remarkably interesting， but for oncein a way you may as well listen to it. It was a mostrespectable old lamp， which had seen many，many years of service， and now was to retire with apension. It was this evening at its post for the lasttime， giving light to the street. His feelings weresomething like those of an old dancer at thetheatre， who is dancing for the last time， and knows that on the morrow she will be in hergarret， alone and forgotten. The lamp had very GREat anxiety about the next day， for heknew that he had to appear for the first time at the town hall， to be inspected by the mayorand the council， who were to decide if he were fit for further service or not;—whether thelamp was good enough to be used to light the inhabitants of one of the suburbs， or in thecountry， at some factory; and if not， it would be sent at once to an iron foundry， to bemelted down. In this latter case it might be turned into anything， and he wondered very muchwhether he would then be able to remember that he had once been a street lamp， and ittroubled him exceedingly. Whatever might happen， one thing seemed certain， that he wouldbe separated from the watchman and his wife， whose family he looked upon as his own. Thelamp had first been hung up on that very evening that the watchman， then a robust youngman， had entered upon the duties of his office. Ah， well， it was a very long time since onebecame a lamp and the other a watchman. His wife had a little pride in those days; she seldomcondescended to glance at the lamp， excepting when she passed by in the evening， never inthe daytime. But in later years， when all these，—the watchman， the wife， and the lamp—had grown old， she had attended to it， cleaned it， and supplied it with oil. The old peoplewere thoroughly honest， they had never cheated the lamp of a single drop of the oil providedfor it.
This was the lamp's last night in the street， and to-morrow he must go to the town-hall，—two very dark things to think of. No wonder he did not burn brightly. Many other thoughtsalso passed through his mind. How many persons he had lighted on their way， and how muchhe had seen; as much， very likely， as the mayor and corporation themselves! None ofthese thoughts were uttered aloud， however; for he was a good， honorable old lamp，who would not willingly do harm to any one， especially to those in authority. As many thingswere recalled to his mind， the light would FLASH up with sudden brightness; he had， at suchmoments， a conviction that he would be remembered. “There was a handsome young manonce，” thought he; “it is certainly a long while ago， but I remember he had a little note，written on pink paper with a gold edge; the writing was elegant， evidently a lady's hand：twice he read it through， and kissed it， and then looked up at me， with eyes that said quiteplainly， 'I am the happiest of men!' Only he and I know what was written on this his firstletter from his lady-love. Ah， yes， and there was another pair of eyes that I remember，—it isreally wonderful how the thoughts jump from one thing to another! A funeral passed throughthe street; a young and beautiful woman lay on a bier， decked with garlands of flowers， andattended by torches， which quite overpowered my light. All along the street stood the peoplefrom the houses， in crowds， ready to join the procession. But when the torches had passedfrom before me， and I could look round， I saw one person alone， standing， leaning againstmy post， and weeping. Never shall I forget the sorrowful eyes that looked up at me.” Theseand similar reflections occupied the old street lamp， on this the last time that his light wouldshine. The sentry， when he is relieved from his post， knows at least who will succeed him，and may whisper a few words to him， but the lamp did not know his successor， or he couldhave given him a few hints respecting rain， or mist， and could have informed him how farthe moon's rays would rest on the pavement， and from which side the wind generally blew，and so on.
On the bridge over the canal stood three persons， who wished to recommendthemselves to the lamp， for they thought he could give the office to whomsoever he chose.The first was a herring's head， which could emit light in the darkness. He remarked that itwould be a GREat saving of oil if they placed him on the lamp-post. Number two was a piece ofrotten wood， which also shines in the dark. He considered himself descended from an oldstem， once the pride of the forest. The third was a glow-worm， and how he found his waythere the lamp could not imagine， yet there he was， and could really give light as well as theothers. But the rotten wood and the herring's head declared most solemnly， by all they heldsacred， that the glow-worm only gave light at certain times， and must not be allowed tocompete with themselves. The old lamp assured them that not one of them could givesufficient light to fill the position of a street lamp; but they would believe nothing he said. Andwhen they discovered that he had not the power of naming his successor， they said they werevery glad to hear it， for the lamp was too old and worn-out to make a proper choice.
At this moment the wind came rushing round the corner of the street， and through theair-holes of the old lamp. “What is this I hear?” said he; “that you are going away to-morrow? Is this evening the last time we shall meet? Then I must present you with a farewellgift. I will blow into your brain， so that in future you shall not only be able to remember all thatyou have seen or heard in the past， but your light within shall be so bright， that you shall beable to understand all that is said or done in your presence.”
“Oh， that is really a very， very GREat gift，” said the old lamp; “I thank you mostheartily. I only hope I shall not be melted down.”
“That is not likely to happen yet，” said the wind; “and I will also blow a memory into you，so that should you receive other similar presents your old age will pass very pleasantly.”
“That is if I am not melted down，” said the lamp. “But should I in that case still retain mymemory?”
“Do be reasonable， old lamp，” said the wind， puffing away.
At this moment the moon burst forth from the clouds. “What will you give the old lamp?”asked the wind.
“I can give nothing，” she replied; “I am on the wane， and no lamps have ever given melight while I have frequently shone upon them.” And with these words the moon hid herselfagain behind the clouds， that she might be saved from further importunities. Just then a dropfell upon the lamp， from the roof of the house， but the drop explained that he was a giftfrom those gray clouds， and perhaps the best of all gifts. “I shall penetrate you sothoroughly，” he said， “that you will have the power of becoming rusty， and， if you wish it，to crumble into dust in one night.”
But this seemed to the lamp a very shabby present， and the wind thought so too. “Doesno one give any more? Will no one give any more?” shouted the breath of the wind， as loudas it could. Then a bright falling star came down， leaving a broad， luminous streak behind it.
“What was that?” cried the herring's head. “Didnot a star fall? I really believe it went into the lamp.Certainly， when such high-born personages try forthe office， we may as well say 'Good-night，' andgo home.”
And so they did， all three， while the old lampthrew a wonderfully strong light all around him.
“This is a glorious gift，” said he; “the brightstars have always been a joy to me， and havealways shone more brilliantly than I ever couldshine， though I have tried with my whole might; and now they have noticed me， a poor oldlamp， and have sent me a gift that will enable me to see clearly everything that I remember，as if it still stood before me， and to be seen by all those who love me. And herein lies thetruest pleasure， for joy which we cannot share with others is only half enjoyed.”
“That sentiment does you honor，” said the wind; “but for this purpose wax lights will benecessary. If these are not lighted in you， your particular faculties will not benefit others inthe least. The stars have not thought of this; they suppose that you and every other lightmust be a wax taper： but I must go down now.” So he laid himself to rest.
“Wax tapers， indeed!” said the lamp， “I have never yet had these， nor is it likely I evershall. If I could only be sure of not being melted down!”
the next day. Well， perhaps we had better pass over the next day. The evening hadcome， and the lamp was resting in a grandfather's chair， and guess where! Why， at the oldwatchman's house. He had begged， as a favor， that the mayor and corporation would allowhim to keep the street lamp， in consideration of his long and faithful service， as he hadhimself hung it up and lit it on the day he first commenced his duties， four-and-twenty yearsago. He looked upon it almost as his own child; he had no children， so the lamp was given tohim. There it lay in the GREat arm-chair near to the warm stove. It seemed almost as if it hadgrown larger， for it appeared quite to fill the chair. The old people sat at their supper， castingfriendly glances at the old lamp， whom they would willingly have admitted to a place at thetable. It is quite true that they dwelt in a cellar， two yards deep in the earth， and they had tocross a stone passage to get to their room， but within it was warm and comfortable and stripsof list had been nailed round the door. The bed and the little window had curtains， andeverything looked clean and neat. On the window seat stood two curious flower-pots which asailor， named Christian， had brought over from the East or West Indies. They were of clay，and in the form of two elephants， with open backs; they were hollow and filled with earth，and through the open space flowers bloomed. In one grew some very fine chives or leeks; thiswas the kitchen garden. The other elephant， which contained a beautiful geranium， theycalled their flower garden. On the wall hung a large colored print， representing the congress ofVienna， and all the kings and emperors at once. A clock， with heavy weights， hung on thewall and went “tick， tick，” steadily enough; yet it was always rather too fast， which，however， the old people said was better than being too slow. They were now eating theirsupper， while the old street lamp， as we have heard， lay in the grandfather's arm-chair nearthe stove. It seemed to the lamp as if the whole world had turned round; but after a while theold watchman looked at the lamp， and spoke of what they had both gone through together，—in rain and in fog; during the short bright nights of summer， or in the long winter nights，through the drifting snow-storms， when he longed to be at home in the cellar. Then the lampfelt it was all right again. He saw everything that had happened quite clearly， as if it werepassing before him. Surely the wind had given him an excellent gift. The old people were veryactive and industrious， they were never idle for even a single hour. On Sunday afternoonsthey would bring out some books， generally a book of travels which they were very fond of.The old man would read aloud about Africa， with its great forests and the wild elephants，while his wife would listen attentively， stealing a glance now and then at the clay elephants，which served as flower-pots.
“I can almost imagine I am seeing it all，” she said; and then how the lamp wished for awax taper to be lighted in him， for then the old woman would have seen the smallest detail asclearly as he did himself. The lofty trees， with their thickly entwined branches， the nakednegroes on horseback， and whole herds of elephants treading down bamboo thickets withtheir broad， heavy feet.
“What is the use of all my capabilities，” sighed the old lamp， “when I cannot obtain anywax lights; they have only oil and tallow here， and these will not do.” One day a GREat heapof wax-candle ends found their way into the cellar. The larger pieces were burnt， and thesmaller ones the old woman kept for waxing her thread. So there were now candles enough，but it never occurred to any one to put a little piece in the lamp.
“Here I am now with my rare powers，” thought the lamp， “I have faculties within me，but I cannot share them; they do not know that I could cover these white walls with beautifultapestry， or change them into noble forests， or， indeed， to anything else they might wishfor.” The lamp， however， was always kept clean and shining in a corner where it attracted alleyes. Strangers looked upon it as lumber， but the old people did not care for that; theyloved the lamp. One day—it was the watchman's birthday—the old woman approached thelamp， smiling to herself， and said， “I will have an illumination to-day in honor of my oldman.” And the lamp rattled in his metal frame， for he thought， “Now at last I shall have alight within me，” but after all no wax light was placed in the lamp， but oil as usual. The lampburned through the whole evening， and began to perceive too clearly that the gift of thestars would remain a hidden treasure all his life. Then he had a dream; for， to one with hisfaculties， dreaming was no difficulty. It appeared to him that the old people were dead， andthat he had been taken to the iron foundry to be melted down. It caused him quite as muchanxiety as on the day when he had been called upon to appear before the mayor and thecouncil at the town-hall. But though he had been endowed with the power of falling into decayfrom rust when he pleased， he did not make use of it. He was therefore put into the melting-furnace and changed into as elegant an iron candlestick as you could wish to see， oneintended to hold a wax taper. The candlestick was in the form of an angel holding a nosegay，in the centre of which the wax taper was to be placed. It was to stand on a GREen writingtable， in a very pleasant room; many books were scattered about， and splendid paintingshung on the walls. The owner of the room was a poet， and a man of intellect; everything hethought or wrote was pictured around him. Nature showed herself to him sometimes in the darkforests， at others in cheerful meadows where the storks were strutting about， or on thedeck of a ship sailing across the foaming sea with the clear， blue sky above， or at night theglittering stars. “What powers I possess!” said the lamp， awaking from his dream; “I couldalmost wish to be melted down; but no， that must not be while the old people live. They loveme for myself alone， they keep me bright， and supply me with oil. I am as well off as thepicture of the congress， in which they take so much pleasure.” And from that time he felt atrest in himself， and not more so than such an honorable old lamp really deserved to be.